The Adventures of Jack Sparrow
by DarkMuse112
Summary: Just as the title says.
1. Impersonating a Cleric

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It's been three days since my last confession." John sat calmly in his seat on his side of the confessional, and waited for the familiar voice of Monsignor Patsey to reply.

"Go on," came an _un_familiar voice. Perhaps Monsignor was sick and couldn't be in church today and had hired a replacement for the time being, or maybe he had a cold, and his voice was cracking. John didn't question the matter though.

He continued. "Well yesterday, I was not myself. I had been drinking with my friends and, after some small scheming between themselves, they took me to a house of ill repute. At first I refused, but the next thing I knew, I was inside having a great time. I know it was wrong, and I am so deeply ashamed of my behavior. The only thing I can do is to ask that God forgive my actions with his whole heart."

There was a moment of silence, and John could hear the minister shift in his seat. "You jus' said ye enjoyed yerself. Did I not hear tha' part correctly?"

John paused in stunned silence, his brow furrowed. "Beg pardon?" He unclogged his ear with his pinky finger. Had he heard correctly? Surely he hadn't. An exasperated sigh came from the other side of the screen.

"God says that yer suppos' ta be happy in life, does he not?"

"Well I guess but..."

"And ye had fun?"

"But Father... sins of the flesh!? With a strange woman who's name I never even knew!? I'm no expert on the matter but I do believe that that's a sin!"

Another exasperated sigh. "Oh fine, if ye insist. Say two 'Our-Fathers' and three 'Hail-Marys' and we'll call it even. Go on, you know the drill."

"Thank you Father." John stood and made the sign of the cross over himself before he opened the door and exited the confessional.

The priest's side of the confessional opened and the resident "priest" stepped precariously through the entryway, and observed the cathedral before him through squinted eyes. But this wasn't the preist that the people of this town were accustomed to seeing. This was a stranger, with a peculiar air about him, and an unusual swagger in his mannerisms, to which the informed person would know as the unmistakable swagger of the feared pirate, Jack Sparrow, the fastest growing threat to all sailors south of the british colonies. To Jack's good fortune, however, the people here weren't the well informed ones.

Jack had only been in this position for two days, and had twice already turned the church services into a three-ringed circus. That is, not to say that he didn't have a good time with it. But he wanted to get off this island already. If only he hadn't misled that priest into thinking that he was the chief of a tribe of head hunters looking to bring his people salvation, he wouldn't be in this mess right now.

Unfortunately for the priest, it was the only way Jack could ensure that his head would still be the proper size when he woke up the next morning. But ever since he'd escaped from the natives and ended up in this position, he had been desperately trying to concoct a plan that would allow him to escape imprisonment, (which would eventually mean death, most likely from the gallows), should his cover be blown. Impersonating a Clergyman of the Church of England was definitely a major violation of the law, and not to mention Christian policy as well. But then again, Jack had little or no regard for the law most days anyway. He was only twenty, but he was quickly gaining a reputation around these parts, as a fearsome, law-evading, scoundrel. He was fast becoming known the most fearsome Pirate in the Caribbean.

The only reason Jack was even on this dried out splotch of land known as Los Rios, (a rather bland little island, with violent natives on one side and a stuffy little colonial settlement on the other), was because the captain and crew of _The Lone Shark_ had become fed up with his constant, infuriating, and inconvenient antics. So they left him here and told him to find another crew, because they were, "sick of him screwing up their plans all the time," to quote Captain Mace. The night that they left him, he took refuge in a rather tall tree, and not ten minutes later, was shot in the arm with a head hunter's dart. After he fell heavily out of his hiding place, they took him to their village, where they dressed him in traditional head huner threads and tied him to a pole for the night to await his ceremonial death the next morning. Fortunately, he had managed to keep his knife on his person and, with some tedious and tiresome adjusting of said knife, was able to cut his bindings and escape. The dim-witted savages also forgot to post someone on guard as well, so it wasn't hard for him to make a clean getaway. It was simply a matter of keeping his actions silent. The next morning, he came to the town of Los Rios, found on the complete opposite side of the island from where the head hunters made their refuge. There, he pretended to be one of the tribesman who'd captured him, and convinced the preacher of St. Barnabus Church to come with him, and show his people the path of righteousness. Unfortunately for the priest, he was, not unlike the head-hunters before him, dim-witted and gullible, and was taken by the natives later that afternoon.

And now, considering the type of fiasco the last two masses he'd conducted had been, Jack thought he'd be lucky to make it through another without his true identity being discovered.

-

"It is to my great and solemn displeasure, to inform you all that Monsignor Patsey has been taken by the head hunters on the other side of the island, and will not be returning. May God rest his soul. If you please, bow your heads and pray that his spirit may find peace in heaven." The parishoners bowed their heads silently. Some of them were crying. Then Michael spoke again, "I do suppose that living with head hunters comes with that risk but... we have also been blessed with a replacement for the time being. Father Jack has agreed to take Monsignor's place for a while. Those of you who attended church yesterday and the day before will already know this. And for those of you who didn't attend, may God forgive you for not being here. No matter how unorthodox Father Jack's sermons may have been..." he glanced at Jack forebodingly, and stepped down from the altar. He gave Jack a slight nod of consent, and in return, Jack placed his palms together and gave the man a small bow as they crossed paths.

"Thanks very much," he said quietly, stepping up to the altar. He raised his hands above his head. "Good afternoon my children! I pray that God has smiled on you yet again today. Yes? Well, on with what ye came here for I guess."

Jack opened the book to the page with the bookmark and began reciting the first reading. When he was done with that, he closed the book and looked out at the parishoners. So innocent and ignorant they were, with their big, admiring eyes and their small, attentive faces.

Figuring it was probably time to move on, he recited the second reading and then the gospel, then started with his sermon. Since the day's gospel had been the story about the son who'd run away from home, spent all his money, then came back looking for forgiveness to meet a rejoicing father and an angry brother, Jack thought he'd give his own take on the tale.

"Firs' of all, when someone runs away, they usually do it fer a good reason. Usually it's because ye never wan' ta see the place ye came from again. So why would ye go crawling back, jus' because ye ran outta money? There's plenty o' people who run away and don't come back. Some of them i are /i destitute, but tha's why there's always stealin' and lootin' ta turn to. If ye don' have a moral sense of decency, then who cares who gets hurt..."

There were stunned gasps from the crowd as they all looked at each other questioningly. Michael knew that he had to stop Father Jack before he went too far, which is why he leaped to his feet and rushed to the priest's side.

"Father," he said tapping Jack on the shoulder, "I think you've said enough. Just... continue with the rest of mass. Please." Michael had already been forced to cut the exuberant minister's previous two sermons short for being too unorthodox. He was beginning to wonder if the church could afford to keep this guy as its priest. But then again, St. Barnabus' Church was paying Father Jack nothing, seeing as he was volunteering out of his own free will, and the church was also grateful for his being here. Plus, there probably wasn't another priest on the island.

Jack whipped around to look at him. "A'right. Thanks." Then he turned back to the floored parishoners, "Thank you everyone! I do hope you had as much fun as I did, so stand now for the song thing!" He made an exuberant gesture for everyone to stand, and walked away from the altar in irritation.

_I'm going to shoot myself in the head if I don't get away from here soon_, he thought

-

After the mass was ended, Jack made his way to the front doors of the church to shake the people's hands, and bid them farewell until the next time; a routine he'd fallen into over the last few days. At one point while shaking hands, he grabbed one that would not let go of his own. Since he'd been blindly going through the motions, he shook his head and snapped out of his daze, only to look up and find himself staring blatantly into the piercing green eyes of a stunning, young, blonde woman. He was lost for words when he saw her, but he quickly resumed his charming demeanor.

"You're some priest," the woman gushed in a syrupy sweet voice. "A bit unorthodox, I'll admit, but you really have a way with words."

"Yes, well... I am a man of God ye know," he smiled slyly.

"And you're pretty good looking too. If you weren't already devoted to Him, I'd have liked to talk to you again sometime." She batted her eyelashes and turned to leave, but Jack grabbed her by the shoulder, and prevented her from leaving.

"Now, now, come. What would be so wrong with a word between friends ey?" he said quickly, revealing his missing teeth. He took her off to the side. "This is only a day job luv. If ye wanna talk later, I'm sure I could work somethin' out with The Big Guy," he whispered into her ear, pointing toward the sky with his thumb and winking. "Wha's yer name?"

"It's Josephine," she replied, beaming. "I'll be in the courtyard at eight."

"Lovely!" Jack squinted in delight. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, this would finally be his chance to get away from his "day job." He watched Josephine's figure snake it's way down the front steps of the church. After shaking off his daze, he returned to his place at the door to shake people's hands.

-

Later that night, Jack, now back in his everyday pirate garb, (Which was not the same as it was in the movies, all he had was the white shirt, pants, sash, bandana and boots), made his way to the courtyard to meet Josephine like he'd promised. He felt like a slimy murderer or something, what with the way he was skulking down the street in the middle of the night. But he wasn't Jack the Ripper, he was Jack Sparrow, so he continued without a second thought on the matter.

He made it to the courtyard in the center of town, only to find that Josephine hadn't arrived yet. He was early anyway.

_Bugger._

He sat down on one of the benches, and stared up at the starless, night sky, and sighed. _She'd better get here soon _he thought, _or I'll come find her, and she'll be wishin' she'd shown in the firs' place..._

At that moment, he heard Josephine's sugary sweet voice call his name from across the square, and she came running toward him. "Jack! Come on! Why are you just sitting there!? People are gonna start showing up at the tavern if we don't hurry."

Jack stood, and interlaced his arm with hers; a gesture of a true gentleman. But Jack wasn't a gentleman, and before they even made it to the tavern, he was asking her what she drank.

"Whatever. You know, I work in this tavern, so we can get whatever we want."

"You're a barmaid right?" he asked curiously.

"Please Father. Do you seriously think a prostitute would be trying to seduce a man of God? I don't think so." She smiled coyly, and jerked him by the hand as she bustled forward, with him hanging on loosely.

They made it to the bar, and sat down at the only open booth before some homeless beggar could get there first. He scowled at them with his toothless mouth, and exited the bar with slumped shoulders. Oh well, back to the streets for him I suppose.

"Wait here, I'll be right back." Josephine left and a few moments later came back with two pints of rum. "Did I assume correctly?" She asked setting the glass down in front of Jack. "You are a pirate, are you not?"

He hesitated. "Aye." He picked up the glass and chugged about half of its contents before he noticed that she was staring at him, and he set it down. "What?" he asked awkwardly.

"God, you're attractive. You're rugged and a bit frightening at first glance, but you're not completely unpleasant to be around. Are you sure you're a pirate?"

"I'm not too sure about anything luv. I guess that's what makes me so dangerous." He leaned over the table and got threateningly close to her face. "Does that scare you?"

She gave a light chuckle and raised her glass to her lips, taking a small sip before setting it back down again. "Hardly. If one can be a preacher, there's hardly anything to be afraid of."

"Oh, really? Because I would think, that someone as refined as yerself, would be cowering in fear after just realizing that the priest you were with was really a pirate."

"Oh I knew from the moment I saw you, that you were a pirate. That was no secret."

Jack cocked an eyebrow at her. "Oh. Well do ye know jus' exactly who I am?"

"Of course," she replied after stealing another sip of rum. "You're Jack Sparrow. One of the most fearsome pirates of the Caribbean." She took another sip. Apparently, there was at least one informed person on this island.

Jack was at a loss. He had nothing else left to stump this woman with. "Fine then. If ye know so much, you mus' know that I'm a complete scoundrel when it comes to the female creature." He smiled broadly.

"Yes."

"So ye knew all that, and decided ta pick me up so ye could 'ave a good time? Is that what I'm to assume here?"

"Precisely."

"My dear Josephine, you are way too forward."

"That may be, but I saw the look in your eye when you saw me. You were hooked from the moment I shook your hand." She paused for a moment, staring off into the distance before she turned again to him. "So, you wanna get outa here?"

Jack was taken aback. This woman was insane. "You're a whore aren't you." It was more of a statement than a question.

"I'm forbidden to say."

"Is that so," he said casting his gaze toward his lap as he searched his pockets. "Well, how will I know if I'm ta pay ye fer yer services then?" He held a shilling out to her and grinned.

She smiled, taking the money and grabbing him by the hand before sweeping him out the door.

-

The two of them came rushing out of the bar and nearly stepped on the homeless guy who's booth they'd taken earlier. Not to mention, there was a big angry mob that was waiting for them with torches and pitchforks. Jack and Josephine stopped in their tracks.

"Did you know abou' this?" Jack asked quietly leaning toward her ear. Josephine just shook her head in fright.

"What're we going to do?" she said through clenched teeth. Jack felt her grip on his hand tighten.

"I don' know!" he said in a harsh whisper, "I haven' gotten tha' far yet!"

"You, there! Father! You're not a priest at all are you!?" said a large, burly man from the front of the mob.

"You doubt the legitimacy of your priest?" Jack replied, "what faith in the Lord can you say you have if ye can' even trus' yer own minister?"

"You see?! He's deceiving you even now!" said the man turning now to face the mob, "I heard it from his own mouth! He's a not a priest at all! He's a pirate, and he intends to lead you all along the path to Hell, which is exactly where he's going to go!" There was a great cheer from the crowd as the man waved his torch in the air. Obviously, Jack hadn't been eloquent enough to talk himself out of the situation like he had hoped. "I say... we burn him at the stake!" he said as more cheering erupted behind him, and the mob began to move forward.

Jack's eyes widened. "Bugger. Well this can't be good." At those, words he bolted and left Josephine standing in the tavern doorway behind him.

"What am I supposed to do!? You can't just leave me here!"

"Yes I can, and I am!" he shouted over his shoulder, "you can keep the change though!"

As Jack dashed through the town, he heard the mob gaining on him, shouting and cursing the entire time. He had to think fast, otherwise they were going to catch him.

As he rounded the corner of a large grey-bricked building, he saw a horse-drawn cart, piled high with straw that was just sitting in the middle of the alleyway and, seeing that the alleyway ended shortly beyond it, decided to utilize this cart for his own concealment purposes. He dove into the cart and quickly buried himself in the straw, leaving a small peep hole so he could keep watch for the angry mob that was chasing him.

A moment after he'd made himself comfortable, his pursuers raced past the alleyway, knowing nothing about his current whereabouts. He smiled deviously at his own cleverness, but his self-assurance plummeted again when the cart started to move.

_Bugger._

The cart traveled out of the town and into the small countryside. To Jack, it seemed like they traveled for hours, and eventually, the lull of the wheels on the road put him to sleep.

When he awoke later the next morning, the cart was sitting outside a barn, and the odor of pigs and cattle was evident. Jack woke with a start and, pulling straw from his mouth and nose, looked frantically through his peep-hole at his unfamiliar surroundings. He could hear the sound of waves in the nearby distance, so he poked his head through the top of the pile of straw to get a better look. He pulled the stubborn straws from his tangled wavy hair. (No he did not have the dreds yet either.)

Sure enough, the shore was not far away, and there just happened to be a small private dock with a fishing boat tied to it. Jack checked to make sure the coast was clear, then leaped out of his hiding place and toward the dock. In no time, he was back at sea.


	2. Thunderstruck

"There be a storm a brewin' out at sea. I can feel it in me bones."

"Aye. The sky looks bleak." Both men stared up at the sky, almost mystified. It was then that another man approached, snapping them out of their reverie.

"What're you two superstitious goats ramblin' on abou'?"

"There's an ill feelin' in the weather cap'n," said the first man, his rather large hat flopping on his head as he turned to the big beefy man who had approached them. "It's no ordinary storm, mark my words."

The captain rolled his bloodshot eyes.

"I'd listen to 'im, sir, if I were you!" urged the floppy hatted man's friend, "Marco's been right abou' our fare more'n once, if ye don' recall!"

The captain did not even take the time to hesitate before he shot back sarcastically, "I do not doubt your mysterious weather predictin' skills, Marco. But I, bein' the captain of this ship, and therefore havin' more influence than either o' you two baboons, say weigh anchor and make ready the sails. We're leavin' now."

"But she won' last!" protested Marco, "We'll all be sent ta Davy Jones! Do ye wan' the death of all yer men as a burden on yer shoulders!?"

"Shut up!" the captain struck Marco in the face. "I'm the captain, an' I said, set sail. Look around! The weather's just lovely this mornin'. Storm my arse..." The captain mumbled this last part as he stalked off toward the gangplank.

It really was a beautiful morning. The omen of Marco's prediction sounded utterly farfetched in this kind of weather. The sun was shining brightly, full and radiant upon the island of Tortuga, on the rum soaked pirates that lay sleeping in the streets, and the people that were awake, stepping over all of the rum soaked pirates that lay sleeping in the streets. There was not one sign of rain nor cloud in sight. Yes, Captain Fez had chosen the perfect morning to set sail on his next venture. Even if Marco and Ferdinand were against it.

The only thing that the captain worried about now -besides the sanity of his crew- was not finding his newest recruit: the lookout he had assigned to the crow's nest.

Captain Fez had met the disparaged Jack Sparrow in a pub just the day before, and since he had been looking for a man to fill the crow's nest because his last lookout had regrettably been devoured by sharks, and Jack had been eager to get out to sea, Captain Fez had willingly given Jack the spot on his crew. Both men had been particularly drunk at this meeting and, once the deal had been sealed, Captain Fez had stumbled out of the pub. Just as he had been passing through the doorway, a shot issued from his pistol and a raucous brawl ensued. After stumbling a few more paces, Captain Fez had thrown his head back in laughter, and went off to cause more trouble somewhere else, more than likely in another pub or a brothel perhaps, leaving Jack behind to fend for himself.

At the moment however, Jack was nowhere to be seen. This was cause for Fez's temper to flare as he searched vehemently for his lookout.

Meanwhile, at the same pub where they had met, Jack Sparrow slowly awoke on top of the bar. It took him a moment of confused disorientation to realize where he was. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he vaguely began to remember that there had been a fight, and the last thing he had seen before he blacked out was a chair coming across his face.

He sat up, with a groggy swagger, and blinked the hung-over sleep out of his eyes. He looked around. There were bodies scattered everywhere about the place. Some were sleeping, others were, like himself, just waking up with tired groans to the realization that they had been knocked out during the fight, and were still in the pub. And then Jack had a realization of his own. Captain Fez would be leaving soon. He had to get to the docks, and fast!

Jack swung his legs in front of him and hopped to the floor. He nearly fell over when his feet met something lumpy and squishy instead of flat and solid.

"OW!" the squishy thing cried from beneath his feet, "You're on my face!"

"Sorry!" he quickly apologized to the man beneath his foot before bolting across the pub, stepping on several more people as he went. He hurried out the door, and nearly killed himself when he stumbled over a naked guy laying across the step just outside the entrance.

i Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger /I he silently cursed. He ran through the town, not without the light stumble that was his mannerism, thankfully unhindered by the sleeping bodies that dotted the streets.

When he reached the docks, he searched for Captain Fez's ship, i The Ugly Barnacle /I . He eventually found it, the seafoam green color of its wood sticking out like a sore thumb in the mass of wooden ships that surrounded it, and did double time to make it before they left without him.

"No! No! No!" he called desperately after it, as if the ship itself could hear him. "Not good!" i The Ugly Barnacle /I looked as if it were already pulling away from the docks. That was when he tripped on his hung-over feet and fell to the ground, smashing his face off the stone.

"Ow," he said cringing, as he slowly lifted his head.

When he looked up, he saw the sun blotted out by a large beefy figure standing over of him.

"Where were ye, Jack?" Captain Fez said with a syrupy sweet voice, looming over him, and saying his name as if they had not just met the day before.

"I was... in a fight?" he offered sheepishly, hoping that it would be just as good of an excuse an any other he could procure. Captain Fez helped him to his feet and glared at Jack and the blood running from his nose. "He was stealin' me boots, he was. An' I couldn' very well join ye, if I didn' have me boots."

"Aye. But what were yer boots doin' off yer feet? Hm?"

Jack paused, again trying to think of something clever to say in his defense. He shrugged, "I wasn't paying attention? He stole em' right off my feet?" He did not want to tell his new Captain that he had been sleeping. What kind of first impression was that?

Captain Fez smacked Jack across the face with the map he carried, knocking him back to the ground. He stalked off laughing maniacally. "Hurry up lad!" he shouted over his shoulder, "we're castin' off in two minutes!"

Jack glared after him, his face blood ridden, and slowly picked himself up off the ground. He went to the water's edge, rinsed the blood off of his face, and scurried over to i The Ugly Barnacle /I .

i This is going to be a long venture/I he thought to himself.

-

The salty sea air was calm; for a little while. A few days into the venture, Marco's prediction became a sudden reality as a ferocious storm struck i The Ugly Barnacle /I with unimaginable force.

Jack, was in the crow's nest where Captain Fez had placed him, the highest point on the ship, when the storm hit. The choppy water rocked the ship as if it were merely a child's play thing. Each time a wave broke, the foaming crests enveloped the deck, sliding across its smooth wooden surface as they recoiled back into the ocean. The lightning flashed and the thunder boomed overhead, and considering his position, Jack was terrified.

Captain Fez, from the safer area of the helm, peered up at Jack. He could see that his newest crew member was just barely visible above the wooden rail, the top of his black hair standing up in the electrical storm around them. His eyes too, were visible over the railing, wide with shock and fright.

The Captain looked away in disgust. How could he have chosen such a useless waste of skin and bone to keep watch? It was just a storm, and the boy would have to learn. He would have to be taught an important lesson. He had to suck up his fear and...

"That boy ye hired, Cap'n, sure has a steady head," Marco complimented, breaking his captain's train of thought.

"Wha?" Captain Fez looked bewildered at the statement. "What the blazes are ye talkin' abou'?"

Marco pointed toward the crow's nest where Jack stood like a statue, one hand on the mast with his feet planted firmly on the railing which, only seconds ago, his fearful eyes had been peering over top of. Captain Fez's attitude toward Jack changed then, and he gazed happily up at his newest crew member, all thoughts of what he was going to do to punish the fool gone.

"It's a pretty rough storm we 'ave 'ere," said Marco, "I'll wager 'e doesn' last long up there."

"Nonsense. Look how sure footed the boy is," the captain said proudly. Then he whipped around to face his opponent. "'E's not goin' nowhere. I'll wager ye..."

i Thunk/I

At that, Captain Fez whipped his head back around and was horror struck by the sight that met his eyes. It was Jack, lying on the deck below the helm, sprawled spread-eagle on his back, his hair sticking out in all directions with electricity. Captain Fez turned back to Marco and gave him an evil snarl. Marco simply shrugged sheepishly in return.

"Bloody hell..." Captain Fez exclaimed and the two of them rushed over to where the lookout had fallen. Marco knelt down and inspected the comatose Jack.

"'E's not breathing sir!" he yelled over the torrent. Captain Fez rolled his eyes and strode over to the unconscious body, kicking him in the side. Jack woke with a start, sputtering wildly. His hair was still a halo of fuzz around his head.

Jack looked up at the circle of men standing around him as the rain and sea water splashed his face. He could not remember climbing down from the crow's nest, so why was he sitting on the deck surrounded by the entire crew, and why did his arm tingle so badly?

i Where the bloody hell am I/I he thought silently to himself.

His arm felt like it was being jabbed with pins and needles, and he yanked up his sleeve to which he met a gruesome discovery. There was a thin spidery scar that ran the length of the inside of his arm from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder.

i What the hell is this/I

Then it dawned on him. He did not remember climbing down from the crow's nest because he had fallen. He had been standing on the railing of the crow's nest, trying to prove his worth to a captain whom he had noticed had begun think that he had hired the wrong person. Yes, even from the crow's nest, Jack had seen the expression on his captain's face and knew that he was rethinking Jack's employment. Jack wanted to stay at sea, he could not let himself get fired. So he had climbed up on the rail, in a convincing attempt at braveness, until there had been a bright flash of light. That was the last thing he remembered before waking up on the deck.

"You was struck by lightning!" Marco shouted from where he knelt beside Jack in the middle of the circle.

Jack looked at him, bewilderment lighting his face. "No, ye don' say!?" he remarked sarcastically.

Again, as he had done when Captain Fez had glared at him after Jack's fall, Marco shrugged sheepishly.

Jack stood, brushing himself off as if nothing had happened. He was completely unscathed. The electrocution, it seemed, had had little after effect on him at all, except for the fuzzy hair that stood up all around his skull. He looked to his captain who simply stared back, his eyes wide in shock.

"Wha's wrong Cap'n?" Jack ventured, touching a finger to his lip and sauntering over to him curiously.

"You were struck by lightning! I saw ye! Ye fell from the crow's nest!"

"Aye, we've already established the fact that I was struck by lightning and fell from the crow's nest. Are there any more obvious details involving my clumsiness that ye'd like to point out ta me, Cap'n, because if ye don'... I've got work ta do." Jack began to walk back toward the ladder that led to the crow's nest, but before he could take two steps, Captain Fez grabbed his shoulder and forced him back.

"Jack, I think ye've shown how invaluable ye can be. It be rough up there, 'specially on this night. Maybe it'd be in yer best interest ta take a break. Maybe do some work down here fer a while."

"Nonsense. I was hired as lookout, I'll do my job as lookout." Then he dropped his voice conspicuously, "even if it kills me."

"Did tha' fall knock you loose?! Yer insane! Stay down here boy. Jus' fer a little while."

Jack shrugged and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "A'right. If it makes ye happy, Cap'n," he consented, reluctantly.

"Tha's a good lad. Now..." he clapped Jack on the back and looked out at the rest of his men, "...WHAT'RE YE LOOIN AT! GET BACK TA WORK!"

With a scramble of feet, the men scattered in all directions and went back about their business.

The rain was pouring buckets, and men were slipping and sliding all around the deck. The ship rocked violently and the lightning looked as if it were threatening to crack i The Ugly Barnacle /i in half.

Jack went to the edge of the rail and started to help another crew member to hoist the sails into place. But the rope grew tighter and tighter and the ship rocked harder and harder, and Jack found it difficult to even do this simple task. The wind blew unrestrained across the deck and one heavy gust whipped the sail back out, which caused the rope to lose slack and Jack, who had been tugging on the line as hard as he could, found himself flung into the air. The momentum tossed him over the rail and into the choppy water where he lost view of the ship.

The sea water filled his mouth and lungs, and he thought he was going to die. There was nothing to grab onto, and even swimming would not increase his chances of survival. They were days out into the venture, he was sure there was no land for miles.

Eventually, he caught sight of i The Ugly Barnacle /I and tried calling to the men to signal that he had been thrown overboard. But no one could hear him. He was lost to the storm, and death was the only thing left.

-


	3. The Superstitious of Tortuga

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to the Pirates of the Caribbean Franchise**

_Ah yes, rum. 'Tis a drink that can satisfy a man's hunger and his thirst. What a diverse drink! There are few such things in life that can calm a man's nerves_ and_ sooth his restless soul than this'n here. An I do believe that this may just be the finest place in all of Tortuga to get it! Ah, rum. Rummy, rum, rum..._

Jack sat alone in one of the Tortugan pubs, slouched in a booth and waving a nearly empty rum bottle back and forth in front of his face, his eyes following it as if hypnotized. The little bit of liquid inside sloshed around making happy tinkling noises that meant the drinker was duly enjoying himself. And enjoying himself, he was indeed.

Jack had spent the better half of a week, getting better acquainted with his new best friend, "The Drink." Since he was only twenty, -and being of limited means by ways of financial support- he had not yet had the chance to sample the exquisite and wondrous taste of rum. The moment that the divine, supernal liquid had passed his parched lips and graced his tongue, the feeling of ambrosial exaltation was ineffable.

Meanwhile, as Jack wallowed in his dreamlike, drunken reverie, there was a gunshot outside the door of the pub. For any person who was accustomed to the sights, sounds and smells of Tortuga, it was not an uncommon thing to witness. But Jack, being in the muddled state that he was in, lifted his heavy, drunken head to investigate anyway. Then he stood up and stumbled outside to get an even better look.

As he moved farther and farther away from the pub entrance, his vision blurred considerably, something large and scratchy fell from up above, covering his head and throwing his vision into complete darkness. Now, not only could he not see straight, but he was blind as well. Jack stumbled forward a few more paces and fell to the ground in his drunken blindness. He wrestled the blanket off of his head and looked up at the woman on the balcony who had thrown it.

"I gotta protect me husban's cust'mers from hurtin' themselves an' others!" she yelled down at him. "You stay there if ye know wha's good fer ye!" Jack thought he heard her mumble something along the lines of, "drunken git," as she walked back into the upstairs room of the pub, but before he could ponder that possibility any further, a horse and carriage came hurtling towards him with no means of stopping. He rolled out of the way just in time. The woman had been wrong. Nope. Not good at all for Jack to stay where he was. He would have been squashed to death had he not moved.

Jack stumbled to his feet and continued walking, -or trudging, rather- knowing not where he was going. Then he ran into something that was about waist high, and toppled over forward. The drop was long, and when he landed head first in the four foot water, he passed out.

But he was not out long enough that he drowned. The cold water sobered him up faster than lightning, and he sputtered and thrashed until he found his footing. His surroundings were dark and wet, and all the noise and commotion that was happening up above in the street seemed magnified a thousand times in the small cylindrical hollow he was now standing in. It made his head hurt. Jack had fallen into the well.

He grew frantic as he realized what had happened. He splashed around in the water, his eyes wide with fright. Then he dove under in a final attempt. After a few moments, he emerged clutching the rum bottle to his chest, cradling it like a baby. It was empty, but the fact was quickly overlooked as Jack spoke to it soothingly.

"My precious. You thought I was going to leave you, didn' ye? Well it's a'right now, daddy's here." He gave the bottle a hungry look and tipped it to his lips. Nothing came out.

"What!?" he exclaimed aloud. Now it was personal. "Help! Get me outta here! I'm gonna die of thirst!" But his attempts at attention were futile. No one could hear him. He would be trapped down here until he died from dehydration. Or at least until morning when the commotion of the customary nighttime activities of the town ceased.

Jack threw the bottle against the side of the well, and it shattered into a million pieces. There was nothing left to do but wait. Jack thought he was going to cry. He loved that rum.

-

Jack listened as the people up above continued to shout and carry on noisily. It had to have been well into the wee hours of the morning before they quieted and retreated to wherever it was that they spent their days. Jack was growing tired, but he could not sleep, the well water was too deep to even sit. Jack had to spend all of that night standing in cold, chest-deep water.

It was late in the morning by now, and Jack stood in the bottom of the well shivering, when suddenly, something hard hit him on the head. He spluttered, startled. Someone had lowered a bucket down into the well! Now was his chance!

He grabbed the rope that the bucket was tied to and yanked. There was a shout from up above.

"AH!" came a man's voice, and then Jack heard footsteps running away from the well.

"Help!" he called. There was no answer.

A few moments later, the man came back accompanied by a female friend. "The rope jerked! I swear! There be somethin' foul down there! Sure as I'm standin' here!"

_What the...? These people are insane!_ Jack thought to himself. He pulled on the rope again, and a shriek of horror came from up above.

"See I tol' you, didn't I?!"

"Help! I'm not a monster! I fell!" Jack called. Apparently the people did not comprehend because they yelled and ran away again.

_Bugger_

Then he had an idea. The bucket was still down here, if he could stay focused enough, he could climb the rope and get out on his own. He started to climb and as he did so, someone else tried to pull it back out of the well. When the bucket refused to raise anymore, the person let go of the rope and it crashed back into the water. Jack fell off when it jerked to a stop. The person at the top cried out in fright.

"It's true! It's true! There is somethin' down there!"

"Aye, and that somethin' needs help gettin' out!" Again, his pleas must have been garbled by the echoing acoustics of the well walls and the person shrieked in horror and ran away.

_This is gettin' rather tiring_, he fumed. He tried climbing the rope again, but his hands were too wet and he fell back into the water when he was about half way to the top. That was when he decided that enough was enough and he gave up completely.

A few minutes later, someone came and started to lift the bucket out of the well. This was his last chance at freedom, and he grabbed onto the rim of the bucket and held on for dear life. He could hear grunting from above, but he was not going to say anything.

His head came into the light of the clear afternoon sun, and he saw the face of his rescuer. He smiled gratefully saying, "Thanks mate."

The muscular guy's face twisted in shock as he shouted in alarm. He let go of the rope in his surprised state and Jack hurtled back to the bottom. The man ran away screaming at the top of his lungs.

_Well this is just lovely. How the bloody hell am I gettin' outta here if ev'ryone thinks I'm some monster in the bottom of a well!?_ Yes, things were beginning to look bleak for Jack Sparrow.

-

The rope had broken when he'd fallen back down to the bottom of the well. It looked as if he were going to die here alone with not even a drink to satisfy his despair.

"Oh. Look, the rope broke," a voice came echoing down the hole to where he stood in the dank water. It was a feminine sounding voice. "What am I gonna do? The people at the pub are gonna get pretty upset..."

"Help!"

There was silence for a moment, and then, "what's that? Is someone down there?"

_Finally!!_ "Yes! Help! I can't get out!"

"Oh! Blimy! Hold on a minute I'll be right back!"

There was a scurry of feet who's sound quickly dissipated, but they soon returned and a rope was thrown down into the well.

"Here! Grab this, I'll pull you up!"

Jack took the rope and quickly, he was pulled into the Tortugan air, thick with smoke and the smell of rum and gunpowder. When he gained his footing on the ground, he looked into the eyes of his rescuer. She was young, beautiful and petite, with dark hair and bright blue eyes. It surprised him that she had been able to extricate him from the well unassisted. She also must have seen the surprise on his face because she quickly said, "stronger than I look, aren't I?"

Jack grinned sheepishly. "Apparently."

"Do not underestimate anybody. You never know just how helpful someone could be until you get to know them. I'm Hart. And you are?"

"Jack," he said with a small swagger, "and now that ye mention helpfulness, maybe ye could help me into that pub over there so I could get ye a drink. I'm parched." And they did just that.


End file.
